


Dragon Age Collected Short Works

by erunamiryene



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erunamiryene/pseuds/erunamiryene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collected ficlets for the Dragon Age fandom.  Contains a smorgasbord of pairings, characters, and genres.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**The Viscount's Final Hours**  
Marlowe writes haltingly, often pausing to think, the quill scratching across the surface of the paper.  
  
 _My son,_  
  
 _How I wish you were here. Yet at the same time, I do not wish you to see any of this. I do not wish my fate upon you; the one you suffered was enough._  
  
 _Even now, all I can think of are your bright blue eyes, and how you seemed to see everything around you so much more clearly than I ever did. I remember how you used to give poor Liza fits when you'd disappear out of the Keep; you terrified her, you know. She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you._  
  
 _It is a mercy that she didn't live to see the last few weeks._  
  
 _Qunari warriors - karasten, I believe you called them - block my door. I hold no delusions that I will make it through this alive._  
  
 _How I wish you were here to guide me. My refusal to listen to you will be my lasting regret. I can only hope I will be able to apologize to you in the life beyond._  
  
 _My last thoughts will be of you, and your mother._  
  
He closes his eyes, wondering what else to write. One of the warriors in his doorway turns. "You will come now."  
  
Marlowe sets the quill down and rises.

\--

 **There's Something I Should Tell You**  
Hawke looks up at her balcony to see Anders standing there, hands behind his back, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She raises an eyebrow.

"What is it? What did you do?"

He fidgets, but says nothing.

She takes the steps two at a time and peers at him, hands on her hips. "No, seriously. What did you do? I can tell you did something."

"I ... there's something I should tell you."

Hawke closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs, trying to ignore the million unpleasant possibilities her mind suggests. "What?"

Anders brings his hands around to the front, revealing a tiny sleeping kitten missing half its ear. "I found her walking through Lowtown, and I couldn't just _leave_ her, so I brought her here, and I know I'm just a roommate and should have asked but look at how cute she is, and -"

Hawke covers his mouth with her hand and smiles. "Awwwww. She's adorable. But you remember," she says mock-sternly, wagging a finger at him, "you're responsible for her food and water and everything."

Anders grins, a huge sunny smile. "Thank you!" He snuggles the kitten to his cheek and heads for his room.


	2. 2

**Chocolate Pudding Fight**   
Varric looked around the kitchen, eyebrow shooting toward his hairline. He tsk-tsked disapprovingly.   
  
"Hawke, the king of Ferelden, Fenris, Isabela, and ... Anders' poor kitten are all covered in pudding. There's a story here, and I'm not leaving til I hear it." He paused. "And you might want to hurry, so you can get that cat cleaned up before Anders sics Justice on you."   
  
"She sabotaged my recipe!"   
"You tried to eat my pudding!"   
"The champion stole mine!"   
"He was going to put  _cheese_  in his, Varric! How gross is that?"   
"There's nothing wrong with cheese!"   
"There is when it's in chocolate pudding." A pause. "Your maaaaajesty."   
"Then Fenris threw his at me-"   
"I did not, I told you I accidentally bumped it."   
"Across the kitchen?"   
"I ... don't know my own strength sometimes?"   
"And-"   
  
"So here we are." Isabela waggled her eyebrows. "Shall we all go upstairs and ... remove it?" she asked, grinning. "I know some _excellent_  removal techniques."   
  
Varric laughed. "I don't care  _what_  you all do - although I'm not sure the king will make upstairs without passing out, given how much blood is rushing to his face - but you better get it off Blondie's cat."   
  
"Spoilsport."   
  
\--   
  
**I Said I Was Sorry**   
"Elf, are you ever going to talk to me again?"   
  
Fenris hunches his shoulders even more - if that's possible - and continues walking.   
  
"You're making me feel bad!"   
  
No answer.   
  
"I  _said_  I was sorry!"   
  
No answer.   
  
"Hawke, will you please tell your broody elf that I did not mean to catch him doing jazz hands in his front room, I certainly didn't mean to laugh, and I really did take it out of my next book, mostly out of fear of my life and limbs?"   
  
There's an explosion of laughter from Isabela, and Fenris stalks away.   
  
"Great, now he's never going to forgive me."   
  
\--   
  
**Hit Me**   
Hawke, Varric, and Isabela were sitting in Hawke's garden, watching Sebastian try to teach Merrill to fight.   
  
"I want you to hit me, as hard as you can."   
  
"Sebastian!" Merrill looks scandalized. "I can't! That would be mean! Besides, I have magic. Why would I need to hit people?"   
  
Isabela chuckled. "You're wasting your time, choir boy. Kitten doesn't have a mean bone in her body."   
  
Varric nodded. "That's true. I think Daisy feels bad when she haggles with vendors."   
  
Hawke rolled her eyes. "You guys, be nice. She hit Fenris the other day."   
  
Isabela smothered a laugh. "Yes, but that was with her staff, when he startled her and she turned around too quickly."   
  
Merrill narrowed her eyes, tried to look fierce, balled up her fist, and swung at Sebastian ... who promptly cried out in pain.   
  
Hawke, Varric, and Isabela looked startled; Merrill looked like she was about to cry. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I thought you were ready!"   
  
"You hit me in the ear!"   
  
"Maybe you should have had Andraste's face as earmuffs," Isabela giggled as Varric and Hawke burst into laughter.   
  
\--   
  
**Head of Kirkwall's Foreign Affairs**   
He makes a half-hearted attempt to push her away, grateful that the Hanged Man is loud and no one else can hear this conversation ... he hopes. "Hawke, that is not what they meant when they gave you that title."   
  
"What's not to understand? You're foreign - well, kind of - and we should have an affair. Head of foreign affairs!"   
  
Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, willing himself not to smile. "How much have you had to drink? And I'm from Starkhaven; it's not that foreign."   
  
"Psh." She ignores the first question. "You're not a Kirkwaller, and you know how they are here about that sort of thing."   
  
"Hawke, no. Now I have to go pray because you - "   
  
She grins. "Because I what?"   
  
"Have given me bad thoughts."   
  
"So go pray."   
  
"I will." He pauses, readjusts how he's sitting. "In a minute." He blushes as she doubles over with laughter.   
  
\--   
  
**Where's My Cow?**   
He brushed her long red hair off her forehead as he handed her the well-worn book. "As requested." He paused. "Yet again."   
  
Aveline smiled and looked at her daughter, sitting patiently in bed. "This one?" she asked, holding it up.   
  
"Cow!" Leandra cheered.   
  
"I have to go -"   
  
"Sit, Daddy," she commanded, patting the bed. "Cow!"   
  
"You better sit, Donnic."   
  
He grinned and perched on the edge of the bed as Aveline picked up the book and began to read.   
  
_"Where's my cow? Is that my cow? It goes ..."_   
  
\--   
  
**Meredith's Secret Letters**   
"First Enchanter, another letter for you."   
  
"From?" Orsino doesn't look up from the book he's reading.   
  
"It's unmarked."   
  
His head shoots up, and he promptly closes the book. "Thank you, Elsa." He takes it and opens it, recognizing at once the flourishy script of his apparent secret admirer. Even now, after five years, the idea still makes him smile. He leans back in his chair and reads it, whispering the words to himself, then putting the letter into an ornate box on his desk.   
  
He looks at the closed door across the hallway, tries not to grin, and puts quill to paper to pen his response.   
  
\--   
  
**Every Night/Hymns**   
Every night, Merrill makes her way to the top deck to watch the stars, smell the sea breeze, and sing. She borrows tunes Sebastian had called hymns, and just adds her own words.   
  
She sings a hymn of remembrance. For the halla. For her clan. For Marethari and the sacrifice she made. For Tamlen. For Fenris, and Sebastian, and Varric, wherever their paths have taken them. For Hawke and Anders, probably out there fomenting an uprising. For the time when she felt surrounded by friends.   
  
She sings a hymn of thankfulness. For Isabela, who has been her truest friend. For Hawke, who gave her confidence. For Varric and his ball of twine, for Sebastian and his acceptance, for Aveline for not having her clapped in irons despite how many times she'd had to drag Merrill out of the gardens. And even for Anders and Fenris, who had always made her cry but also made her try not to charge in blindly, even though she never told them that.   
  
She sings a hymn of hope. For a better tomorrow. For calm seas and sure progress. For her companions' safety. For the courage to be better than she had been yesterday.   
  
Up in the rigging, unseen, Isabela listens and smiles.


	3. 3

**Pancakes**   
"Wow, it smells delicious in here. What are you making?"   
  
Hawke flips the skillet upward. "Pancakes."   
  
Sebastian grins. "That might be worth the penance for getting drunk at your house last night." He comes up behind her and hugs her. "Thanks for letting me sleep in the spare room."   
  
The hug goes on just a bit too long, and Hawke steps away before she does something untoward. "Welcome," she mumbles. "Can you get the syrup?" She sets the pan back on the heat, turns, and walks right into him.   
  
"Hawke ... I mean, Marian, I ... "   
  
He's clearly losing the battle with his self-control, and Marian isn't going to do a thing to stop it. He leans in, she closes her eyes and -   
  
"Hawke! Did you make pancakes? I could smell them out- ohhhh. Am I interrupting something?" Isabela sounds positively gleeful.   
  
Sebastian flushes a deep red and all but runs for the pantry to get the syrup. Marian sighs and turns back to the stove, dumping the burned pancake into the trash. "So close. So,  _so_  close."   
  
\--   
  
**A Visit From Death**   
Hawke found herself watching the scene, which was an entirely new experience.   
  
"What on - what's going on?"   
  
I'M AFRAID YOU HAVE EXPIRED.   
  
"What? But Anders said he wouldn't let that happen again!"   
  
'AGAIN'?   
  
Hawke sighed. "He's really not on his game lately." She paused. "But seriously, I'm dead?"   
  
YOU'VE PASSED ON. YOU ARE NO MORE. YOU HAVE CEASED TO BE. YOU'VE EXPIRED, AND WILL EVENTUALLY GO TO MEET YOUR MAKER. YOU'RE A STIFF. BEREFT OF LIFE, YOU REST IN PEACE. KIND OF. IF YOU WEREN'T IN A CAVERN YOU'D BE PUSHING UP THE DAISIES. YOUR METABOLIC PROCESSES ARE NOW HISTORY. YOU'RE OFF THE TWIG. YOU'VE KICKED THE BUCKET, SHUFFLED OFF YOUR MORTAL COIL, RUN DOWN THE CURTAIN, AND JOINED THE CHOIR INVISIBLE. YOU ARE AN EX-HAWKE.   
  
"... A simple 'yes' would have sufficed." She folded her arms and pouted.   
  
ARE YOU READY?   
  
She shook her head. "Nope, he'll rez me in a minute. Nice chatting with you," she said as Anders began to cast the complicated spell.   
  
\--   
  
**Aveline Arrests Hawke**   
Marian almost had the chest open when she was suddenly yanked away from behind.   
  
"Hey!" she bellowed as she flailed around.   
  
"Hawke, I'm not going to sit by and watch you rob this merchant. You are under arrest. You will accompany me back to the guard house, where you will wait until you're processed. Your friends are welcome to attempt to make bail, but given that you are a repeat offender, it is unlikely they have the funds to do so."   
  
"Aveline," Marian muttered as she was marched away, "I'm never taking you anywhere ever again."   
  
Isabela leaned toward Anders. "So, how are you going to break it to Hawke that this was all a prank? Because you know she's going to kill you."   
  
"By letter. From another continent, preferably."   
  
\--   
  
**The Hat**   
"Ta-daaaaaa! I told you this hat was amazing."   
  
Marian takes in the floppy brim, the obscenely huge bright blue feather (what kind of hellish bird did THAT come from?), the multi-colored paisley pattern, the rhinestones, the beading, and the fact that someone has tried to embroider "wizard" on it and failed, instead writing "wizzard". She knows she shouldn't say anything because it's going to hurt his feelings, but she really can't help herself.   
  
"Anders. Dude. That is a terrible hat."   
  
\--   
  
**You Kiss Your Mother With That Mouth?**   
They were picking their way along a path cutting through the wilds on the Wounded Coast when Marian tripped over a rock. She stumbled forward, daggers flying out of her hands, and landed face first in a pile of sand.   
  
Fenris extended a hand to help her up. "Are you okay?"   
  
Marian slapped his hand away and cursed a blue streak as she stood up, angrily swiping sand off of her armor.   
  
Isabela raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you even got some Qunari in there. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"   
  
"No, just yours," Marian retorted, leaving Isabela speechless as Varric & Fenris burst into laughter.   
  
\--   
  
**I Was Drowning & You Were Dry Land**   
She stares at him. "You're back."   
  
He stands there with blond hair askew, coat torn, soot on his face. "I ... want to help."   
  
"You think you can fix this?" She waves her hand at the damage surrounding them.   
  
"No. But I can help."   
  
She looks away. "Why? Why now, after you caused this?"   
  
"You."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I was in darkness, and you showed me a light. I was in torment, and you gave me solace. I was wandering, and you found me. I was drowning, and you were dry land. I deserved nothing, and you gave me everything."   
  
She turns her back to him, but not before he sees the tears in her eyes and the small smile on her lips. "Fine. But if you break my heart again, I'm booting you into the harbor ... no matter how eloquent you are."


	4. 4

**Population: AWESOME!**   
Marian, Isabela, Aveline, and Merrill are sitting at a small table in the corner of the Hanged Man, watching the antics in the center of the room.   
  
"Maybe we shouldn't have let them drink so much," Merrill ventures as Varric clambers onto a table, followed by Fenris, Donnic, Anders, Sebastian, and Alistair.   
  
"How'd they manage to get Alistair involved? That guy's really relaxed since I saw him last," Isabela muses. "Although I am impressed that none of them spilled their alcohol."   
  
Aveline shakes her head. "I can't believe Donnic is even going along with this."   
  
Marian laughs. "Hush, you guys, Varric clearly wants to make an announcement."   
  
Varric holds up his hands. "This table shall henceforth be known as Badassery!" He turns to the assorted group standing with him. "And what's the population?"   
  
"Population AWESOME!" They all cheer, bang mugs together, spill ale everywhere, break into song.   
  
"Oh please," Isabela laughs. "They'd be nothing without us."   
  
Marian chuckles. "Looks like it's ladies' day on the Wounded Coast tomorrow, since they'll be in Suckville, population Hungover tomorrow."   
  
\--   
  
**F*ck You Very Much**   
  
"What do you mean, you're  _leaving_ ?" Hawke snapped as she snatched her pants and followed him out of the bedroom.   
  
Fenris didn't turn, and started down the stairs. "I just ... "   
  
"Just what?  _What_ ? Just didn't realize what it entailed? Just didn't have enough fun? What?"   
  
He finally turned. "I just can't deal with it right now, okay?" he shouted. "You don't understand."   
  
She folded her arms. "Yeah? Well, fuck you very much, buddy. Oh wait, we better not, because oh no, we don't want everything going all weird, now do we?" She turned and started back up the stairs. "As far as I'm concerned, this never happened. So don't sit there and stare daggers at Sebastian the next time I touch his arm, or at Isabela the next time she hugs me. If you don't want it, don't get pissed if someone else does."   
  
He stormed down the stairs and through the main room. She stood with arms folded until she heard the front door slam, then collapsed onto the top step, willing away tears.   
  
\--   
  
**Step 2: Something Amazing Happens**   
Merrill peeks over the wall and sees Fenris brooding in his garden. She drops down, opens the side gate, and pokes her head in.   
  
"Lovely night, isn't it?"   
  
He glares at her, but says nothing. She comes and sits in the grass next to his bench. "What's wrong?"   
  
He shrugs.   
  
"Isabela?"   
  
"That's none of your concern."   
  
"She likes you, you know."   
  
He sneers.   
  
"She does! I see how she looks at you."   
  
"It doesn't matter; I wouldn't know what to do, anyway."   
  
Merrill gestured to the small plot just beginning to show flowers. "It's like flowers. Step 1, you plant a seed. Step 2 ... something amazing happens!"   
  
"Stop planting random flowers in my garden."   
  
"I will. But you should talk to Isabela."   
  
"Go away, Merrill."   
  
She pats him on the knee. "Have a good night, Fenris."   
  
She peeks over the wall again after leaving, and sees him deep in thought, sitting next to the flowers.   
  
\--   
  
**Sing me a Song, Choir Boy**   
Hawke smothers a grin as Sebastian's face reddens. Again. Isabela hasn't left him alone this entire trip.   
  
"Just one song, Sebby."   
"Don't CALL me that."   
"Pleaaaaaase?"   
"No."   
"I'll be your best friend."   
"No, thank you."   
"I'll make Hawke kiss you."   
"I can do that myself, thank you very much."   
"Ooh, do it! I think she'd like it."   
"No!"   
"If you don't sing me a song, choir boy, I'm never going to leave you alone. I'll dog your steps. I'll wait outside the chantry. I'll make sure Varric puts you in our next novel. I'll-"   
"Fine!"   
  
He clears his throat, and breaks into a rather jazzy rendition of "I Get a Kick Outta You", complete with a little softshoe dance move. He finishes, resumes his rather uptight stance, and folds his arms.   
  
"Good enough?"   
"Choir boy, you just gave me fantasies for a week."   
"Uh-huh."   
"I bet you gave Hawke some, too."   
"Damn you, Isabela."   
"Oh, you love it and you know it."   
  
\--   
  
**Life is pain. Anyone telling you different is selling something.**   
Hawke sat down on a crate, leaned back against the wall, and stared at the sky, heedless of the tears running down her face.   
  
"I'm done. Forget it. I quit."   
  
Isabela crouched beside her truest friend. "You can't quit. My arm will get tired stabbing all these people by myself."   
  
Hawke didn't even smile. "It's too much, Isabela. He lied to me. Then he did -" she waved her hand in the general direction of the ruin of the chantry "-  _that_ , and then I had to kill him, and even what he said about dying pissed me off, and it hurts too much, and I quit. Why don't I get to be happy for once?"   
  
Isabela shrugged. "Life is pain. Anyone telling you different is selling something. But in between, we claim happiness. Were you happy with your revolutionary?"   
  
Hawke folded her arms and didn't answer.   
  
"It doesn't matter if you answer or not; I know you were. If you weren't, you wouldn't hurt now. Pain can be a reminder of happiness; can't have one without the other." Isabela smiled and hugged the Champion. "You'll be happy again, I promise." She took Hawke's arm and pulled her to her feet. "Now up you go; we have to keep moving."   
  
\--   
  
**Please Don't Leave Me**   
Isabela looks up as she withdraws her daggers from the two raiders behind her, and sees Hawke collapse.   
  
"No!" she cries, rushing across the sand and falling to her knees. "Don't you dare, Hawke. Don't you  _dare_ ."   
  
Hawke opens one eye, both hands pressed against a gaping wound in her side. "Don't what?"   
  
Isabela's expression wavers between anger, exasperation, and fear as she leans over to kiss Hawke's forehead. "Please don't leave me," she whispers.   
  
Hawke smiles weakly. "It's okay," she mumbles. "We brought Anders this time. Besides, if I didn't let you be the one to leave, you'd kick my ass."   
  
Isabela turns. "Anders, move your feathers! Hawke's down!" She turns back and grins. "You're right, I would. Now shut up; you can be sarcastic later, when you're not giving me gray hair."   
  
\--   
  
**The Adventures of Feathers the Griffon**   
"Mommy, where's cow?"   
  
"Leandra, we're reading something new tonight. Your father brought it home."   
  
The three year old folds her arms and glares at Donnic. "Daddy. Cow."   
  
Donnic smiles and shakes his head. "New book, honey."   
  
Leandra flops onto her bed and pouts.   
  
Aveline sits down, opens the book, and shows Leandra the title page. "See, it's about Feathers. He's a ... speed griffon." She pauses and looks at Donnic. "Where, exactly, did you get this?"   
  
Donnic shrugs. "Corff handed it to me while I was at the market today. I felt bad telling him no. And it could be good!"   
  
Aveline sighs. "You're lucky I love you, my husband." She turns to the first page. "Feathers was a griffon. But he wasn't just any griffon - he was the fastest griffon in his roost ... "   
  
\--   
  
**And there you were, completely naked**   
Hawke brings a couple more pitchers to the table.   
  
"Tell us a new story, Hawke," Varric grins. "Come on, you have to have one about Chantry Boy here."   
  
Sebastian shakes his head. "Unlikely. Hawke and I-"   
  
"Actually, I  _do_  have one about Sebastian!" Hawke grins drunkenly as a look of horror flashes across Sebastian's face. "So, you remember that time that we were supposed to hit up that cave on the Wounded Coast, and you wanted to go, but you were running late, and I met you outside your room?"   
  
Sebastian looks confused. "Uhh ... yes?"   
  
"Well, see, I got there a little earlier than you thought, and I opened the door to see what the hell you were doing. And there you were, completely naked, shakin' that thang all over your room." Hawke pauses as everyone else at the table bursts into laughter. "Seriously, I have a towel if you need one, no need to air dry." She leers at him. "Not that watching you shake it around your room wasn't extremely appealing. Anyway, so I just closed the door quietly, waited a couple of minutes, then knocked." She grins triumphantly. "Bet you didn't know about THAT."   
  
Varric stops scribbling and looks up. "Hawke, you're my new hero. I'm putting you on my tab tonight, just for that."   
  
\--   
  
**lyrium and ... lyrium and ...**   
Hawke and Fenris eyed the miscreants they'd caught.   
  
"Now then, what were you doing down in these caves?" Fenris asked.   
  
"We were just ... going to the Wounded Coast for some ... sunlight and swimming, sir."   
  
Hawke shook his head. "Wounded Coast, huh? Almost made it."   
  
Fenris produced a pouch. "What's this?"   
  
Another smuggler spoke up. "Ohhh ... that's not ours."   
  
Hawke smiled. "Now, I'm gonna ask you again. Tell us what you were smuggling." Next to him, Fenris raised an eyebrow.   
  
The smuggler sighed. "... lyrium," he mumbled.   
  
Fenris held up a pack. "Lyrium and ... ?"   
  
Hawke chimed in. "Lyrium and ... ?"   
  
When it was apparent that neither smuggler was going to answer, Fenris produced slaver bills of sale. "Lyrium, and human slaves." The smugglers hung their heads as Fenris smiled. "And we're gonna have to teach you boys a lesson."   
  
\--   
  
**This? This is why I hate the Templars**   
They're standing in the sewers leading to the Gallows, armor-clad bodies strewn around them. Anders is breathing heavily, Fenris is wiping at a spot on his armor, and Hawke's wiping blood off her daggers.   
  
Isabela hears a sound, looks up, and sighs, which catches everyone else's attention.   
  
"Seriously, where do they  _come_  from?" Hawke asks exasperatedly, looking in the same direction as Isabela.   
  
Isabela turns to Anders. "This? This is why  _I_  hate the templars. You think you got all the ones attacking you, and bam, more fall from the sky." She pauses. "Or in this case, the sewer roof. Maker, who designed this nonsensical city?"


	5. 5

**Funeral**   
It was held in a quiet grove, far from roads and towns and people, near the sea.   
  
Anders - although by now it was mostly Vengeance - stood near the simple wooden coffin and watched Hawke's companions gather in the early morning mist. He cleared his throat. As the assembled group quieted, a blue light flickered across his eyes. Anders took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and began.   
  
"We have gathered from places flung far and wide to pay tribute to one of our most stalwart friends .... "   
  
\----   
  
**I Want to Go Home**   
Hawke threw down her sword and kicked at some rocks.   
  
"We've been in this damn cave for two days. You all smell, I hate spiders, I'm sick of the undead, if I see one more revenant I'm going to punch it right in its face because why does it take them a year to just DIE ALREADY, the ground is moist, and let me tell you, I HATE the word moist, the passages are a total maze, I'm sick of finding scarves in boxes - seriously, what is it with Kirkwallers and freaking scarves in boxes? - my sword arm is tired, Anders has let me die twice - thanks, buddy - and with our luck, we'll probably run into a dragon. I want to go home!"   
  
"Well ... you can't, Champion. Here's a straw; suck it up."   
  
She glared at Fenris, picked up her sword, slammed it in her scabbard, and stormed off.   
  
\----   
  
**Never Hit a Man With a Closed Fist**   
In retrospect, Anders thought as he regained consciousness on the floor of the Hanged Man, he probably should have kept his mouth shut.    
  
Hawke hadn't been in a jokey mood that night, but Anders hadn't noticed til it was too late, and one too many barbs about Isabela resulted in Hawke throwing her mug, balling her fist, and socking him in the face. He'd gone ass over teakettle off the bench, drenching himself in ale in the process, much to the amusement of the rest of the party.   
  
"Oh, Hawke," Varric said. "You should never hit a man with a closed fist."   
  
"You should use a dagger instead!" Isabela chimed in cheerfully.   
  
Before Anders had passed out, he saw Hawke shake her head. "No way. This was much more hilarious."   
  
\----   
  
**Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue**   
Hawke is the first into the room. "Here, Aveline, this was my mother's veil." A pause. "She'd want you to wear it."   
  
Aveline takes it, blinking away tears.   
  
Isabela shows up next.   
  
"I got you these," Isabela says, proffering a bouquet made of different blue flowers and tied together with a yellow ribbon. She grins. "I promise, I made sure none of the flowers had rude names."   
  
Merrill comes running into the room. "I found it!" She produces a small box, opened to show a delicate necklace. "I wasn't sure I'd remembered to pack it, but I did, and it would look beautiful with your dress." Aveline nods, and Merrill fastens it for her.   
  
Hawke looks around. "But we don't have a 'something new'!"   
  
Isabela smirks. "Donnic's still new, isn't he?" She eyes Aveline. "Or did you two give in?"   
  
Aveline blushes scarlet as everyone else laughs. "We can ... pretend he's new."   
  
Isabela pats Aveline's arm and grins. "That's my girl."   
  
\----   
  
**Does it Trouble Your Mind the Way You Trouble Mine?**   
Anders looked up from his manifesto, studying Sirene's profile in the firelight.   
  
"Are we doing the right thing?"   
  
She turned to face him, fierce determination writ on her features. "Yes! How long do mages have to be oppressed before people wake up? Honestly, I'm tired of waiting for them, so WE will wake them up."   
  
"But ... innocent people, Hawke. Does that trouble your mind ... well ...." Anders paused and fidgeted. "The way you trouble mine sometimes?"   
  
She sulked. "What do you mean?"   
  
"I just think that maybe you're too caught up in doing this a certain way, regardless of who it hurts. Vengeance agrees with you far too often."   
  
Sirene looked incredulous. "YOU think I'M too strident about this?" As his face fell, she crossed the room and put her arms around him. "Sometimes, revolution is the only way," she said gently. "Better that than we be rounded up, herded into Circles, and left to live a faux life."   
  
Anders sighed, then nodded. "I suppose I should finish this manifesto, then," he said as he picked up his quill.   
  
\----   
  
**Stuff With Bits in It**   
"Anders, why are you determined to teach me how to cook?"   
  
"Because if I don't, your cooking will kill us all, and we're supposed to be on the same team."   
  
"Nice. Thanks."   
  
"Sorry, Hawke, but you're a menace around a campfire. Look, you can make stew, I swear. Everyone can make stew."   
  
"Psh."   
  
"It's stew! How hard can it be?" He scribbles a recipe and leaves her to it.   
  
Three hours later, as Anders looks into a steaming bowl of ... stuff with bits in it, he quietly decides that he'll just take over the nights Hawke is on cooking detail.   
  
\----   
  
**Why Are Baby Things Always So Cute?**   
Hawke found Isabela at a back stall in Lowtown. "This is where you've been? What are you doing?   
  
"Look at these socks, Hawke! They're so ... so ... "   
  
"Not your size?"   
  
"Cute! They're so cute!"   
  
"... Isabela, are you trying to tell us something?"   
  
"What? Maker, no! Like the world needs any more of me running around. Not to mention that whole parenting thing really gets in the way of doing whatever the hell you want." She paused. "But why are baby things always so cute?" She stomped her foot. "It's not fair!"    
  
Hawke shrugged. "Well, if you're not going to -"   
  
"Hawke! You and that broody elf should have one! Then I can coo over it, and buy cute little things - which you would tell NO ONE about, by the way - and wouldn't have to take it home! Hey, why are you walking away?"   
  
\----   
  
**If You're Going to do Something, Do It Properly**   
Hawke had played along with this game quite long enough. She turned on Sebastian when they were out on the Wounded Coast.   
  
"Decide!" she snapped.   
  
He looked stunned. "What?"   
  
"Decide! I'm tired of you toying with my emotions, acting like you want to kiss me and then running away like a coward, and talking about it with other people, and just ... just ... if you're going to do something, do it properly! Don't half-ass it while you 'make up your mind'!"   
  
"She means 'do HER'," Isabela chimed in helpfully.   
  
"It's not a simple decision, Hawke, I ... "   
  
"You've had years!" Hawke snapped. "How much more time do you need?"   
  
He turned and stalked away back down the beach.    
  
\----   
  
**There's Always a Big Bad Wolf**   
"I don't understand," Leandra said as she worked against the rope binding her to the chair. "I thought you needed help!"   
  
"I do," the soft-spoken mage replied as he went about his work, back turned to her. "Just not like you thought."   
  
"But  _why_ ?" she pleaded. "I never did anything to you! My children ... they need me!"   
  
He turned to her, face contorted in a grotesque parody of a smile. "Did you tell your children fairy tales?"   
  
She nodded.   
  
"You know what the fairy tales don't tell you?" he asked as he came toward her. "There's  _always_  a big bad wolf."   
  
\----   
  
**Run Along With Captain Jack**   
Hawke, Isabela, Donnic, and Aveline were sitting outside in the Hendyrs' back yard.   
  
"Leandra, run along and play," Donnic said, pointing at Marian & Isabela's son, who was cheerfully stomping through the overgrown grass. Leandra shook her head and stayed next to her mother.   
  
"Jack, come here," Marian called. He came running over.   
  
"Mama," he said with a wounded look, "I'm not Jack, I'm CAPTAIN Jack." He pointed to the minature pirate hat Isabela had bought him in some port or another.   
  
She grinned and bowed. "My apologies, Captain."    
  
Aveline smiled at her daughter. "Why don't you run along with Captain Jack? You can use the training sword that Marian & Isabela got you." She eyed her friends. "Much earlier than age seven, I might add."   
  
Leandra cheered and dashed into the house, followed by Jack.   
  
\----   
  
**Take Me to Bed or Lose Me Forever**   
_He'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye for the last three hours. He'd caught her every time she looked at him, every time she smiled at one of his jokes, every time she talked herself out of talking to him. He'd had enough, he decided, slamming his tankard down on the table.  
  
In the sudden silence, he stared at the pirate. "You! You take me to bed - right now - or you lose me forever."  
  
Everybody turned to look at Isandre, who was blushing. She set her mug down, stood, and stalked over to him. "Fine!" she snapped, hauling him to his feet and dragging him toward the stairs. "Let's go!"_   
  
Isabela looked up from the page and glared at Varric. "Really now? The elf confronts ME? And since when am I some shy little flower?"   
  
Varric shrugged. "I liked the line better coming from him. Plus, then I can tell him I didn't put him in the story verbatim," he said, grinning.   
  
\----   
  
**Why Can't I Be You?**   
Sebastian lags behind the rest of the group, and Isabela drops back to talk to him.   
  
"Aww, what's wrong, choir boy?"   
  
"Not now, Isabela."   
  
She follows his gaze. "Hawke's pretty amazing, huh?"   
  
Sebastian narrows his eyes at her but says nothing.   
  
Isabela holds up her hands. "You just seem distressed."   
  
He thinks for a moment. "I just ... why can't I be you? You run around, you don't care what people think, and if you wanted to kiss Hawke, you would."   
  
"Have. You should try it, it's quite enjoyable."   
  
He sighs. "See? And I can't even be in the same room next to her without making an ass of myself."    
  
Isabela waggles her fingers. "It's that whole church thing. Just make up your mind, and go from there. If you choose Andraste, your choice is made. If you choose Starkhaven, walk up to Hawke, kiss her face off, and tell her so. It's easy to be me; just stop complicating your own life." She pats him on the arm and jogs up to walk with Hawke.   
  
\----   
  
**I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, and This is My Favorite Stall in Hightown**   
Isabela grabbed Hawke's arm as they walked through Hightown's market. "Oh Hawke, look at that dagger!"   
  
Hawke looked, and nearly passed out when he saw the price. "Isabela, did you see how expensive that is?"   
  
"I'll take care of it." She turned to the stall owner. "As you can see, the Champion of Kirkwall is at your stall. Given that you wouldn't HAVE a stall if it wasn't for this fine manly specimen here, I'd think we could work out a discount of some sort, yes?"   
  
The stall owner considered. "Fine. I'll give you a discount, if the Champion there will promote my stall. Business has been slow."   
  
"Maybe it's the prices," Hawke muttered before Isabela elbowed him.    
  
"Just do it," she hissed. "I came back to save your hide, you know."   
  
Hawke smirked. "Nice, Isabela," he whispered before turning to the square and raising his voice. "Attention! I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, and this is my favorite stall in Hightown! Anyone who's anyone would clearly shop here!"   
  
In the ensuing stampede of customers, Isabela swiped the dagger before Hawke caught her.


	6. 6

**These People Are Here to Protect You**   
"Mama?"   
  
Her lips are pressed into a thin line. She gives the assorted templars such a glare that two of them actually take a step backward, then she drops to her knees and takes her son's shoulders.   
  
"My heart, these people are here to protect you. They're ... they're soldiers. And they're going to take you to a place where you can be trained." She manages a smile. "So we don't have any more incidents like we had with the chicken coop."   
  
He sniffles. "I said I was sorry for that, Mama. Please don't send me away."   
  
"I know you did, and I know you are." Her voice wavers, and she takes a deep breath. "But I can't teach you, love. They can." She looks up as the templars step forward. "Now run in and say goodbye to your auntie."   
  
She watches her golden-haired child dash into the house, and then turns on the templars. "If you hurt him," she says in a low, menacing tone, "I will find you. And I will kill you. You are to protect him, do you understand?"   
  
They nod. She looks down as her only son comes back to her side, standing tall. "You remember, dearest - follow your heart, and do right."   
  
"I will, Mama."   
  
\--   
  
**Yours**   
  
The only reason she hears the knock is because she's in the kitchen getting a late-night snack. The knock is of the "I hope you don't hear me knocking" variety, which only piques her interest. She tiptoes to the foyer and looks out a window, eyes widening when she sees who's on her doorstep.   
  
She yanks the door open as he's turning to leave. "Yes?"   
  
"Hawke, I .... " He shuffles his feet, looking rather out of sorts without all his shiny white armor on. (She's a little sorry he didn't wear it, because now she doesn't know how bedraggled her hair looks.)   
  
"Yes?" She's refusing to give an inch after his scene on the beach, and waggles the plate of cake at him. "I have a snack to eat, you know."   
  
"I just wanted to tell you that I've chosen."   
  
"Oh? I thought you did that on the beach. You know, when you ran away from me."   
  
He steps closer and oh-so-lightly kisses her bottom lip, taking the plate of cake and setting it aside. "I've been yours since the first time you smiled at me. I'm just not the sharpest arrow in the quiver and it took me awhile to realize it."   
  
She takes his hand and leads him inside. "And what made you realize it?"   
  
"Those red high-heeled screw me shoes you wore the other night."    
  
Hawke grins. "Works every time."   
  
\--   
  
**You Were Supposed to Read the Instructions!**   
  
"Ow!" A pause. "Look, I know you gave up the playboy life awhile ago, and this is a re-introduction for you, but 'ow' is not really the right reaction, ever."   
  
"Well, you were supposed to read the instructions!"   
  
"The 'instructions' you gave me consist of Varric's new book, choir boy. I read the 'instructions'. The 'instructions' resulted in me saying 'ow'. How about  _you_  try to get in this position?"   
  
"Um ... yeah, no."   
  
"Okay, then. We're scrapping the instructions. Look, we haven't broken in the library yet, and Bodahn & Sandal are at the market." A grin. "There's a desk in there. Just a suggestion."   
  
She ends up having to catch up to him as he races down the stairs.   
  
\--   
  
**No Matter What the Storybooks Say**   
  
"You heard me. We have to get married."   
  
"No, we most certainly do not." Hawke folded her arms and glared. "You may be a prince, but I am not required to do a single thing you say."   
  
Varric looked from Hawke to Sebastian. "So ... I'm going to go get a drink at the bar. You kids try not to break any furniture over each other's heads."   
  
"But, that's how things are done," Sebastian countered.   
  
"In stupid fairy tales, maybe. Not in real life. And no matter what the storybooks say, getting married because of a baby is a stupid reason to get married, so until you have a good one, you can take your grimly offered proposal and go jump off of Sundermount."   
  
\--   
  
**That Would Be You**   
"You know, and I go over there all the time, and I don't mention the state of that house, and I like listening to his stories, and I at least try not to remark on how cute his butt looks in that armor of his too often, and I've told Anders that yes, he does indeed have to heal him, and none of it matters, because does he notice? Of course not!" Hawke throws his hands in the air.   
  
"Who doesn't notice?" says a rather unmistakable voice as its owner comes around a corner.   
  
"That would be you," Isabela gleefully informs Fenris.   
  
Hawke just lowers his face into his hands. "Hey guys, I'll be right back, I'm going to go inside and die of embarrassment."   
  
\--   
  
**Come back to me! I made you a muffin!**   
"Hawke, I ... I can't do this." Fenris turned and strode out of the room.    
  
Hawke hurriedly wrapped the sheet around herself and followed him out. "But you can't leave!"   
  
"I can't stay. I just ... can't." He opened the front door.   
  
She dashed into the kitchen and snagged the first thing she saw. "Come back to me! I made you a muffin! And I didn't even eat it, it's right here!"   
  
He turned, eyebrow raised. "Oh Hawke. Please ... don't eat that muffin."   
  
She smiled. "Because you want the muffin I made for you?"   
  
"Because your cooking is lethal, and I  _do_  care for you." Fenris hurriedly shut the door behind him as Hawke threw the muffin at his head.   
  
\--   
  
**Wash Day**   
"Babe, look, you've been working very hard, and ... well, you need a bath and it's wash day."   
  
"I have to finish this paragraph on my manifesto, then I will, I promise."   
  
Hawke sat on the desk. "Look, now my incredibly attractive and shapely tush is in your way. Let's go."   
  
"But-"   
  
"You either give me those clothes, or I'm taking them by force."   
  
Anders narrowed his eyes. "I'd like to see you try."   
  
Five minutes later, as Hawke triumphantly straddled him while dangling his clothes in the air, he sighed. "Fine. You win. But I have one condition."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
He grinned a  _real_  grin, the kind she hadn't seen in what felt like ages. "You have to bathe with me."   
  
Hawke smirked. "I think I can handle that. Wash day, and all."   
  
\--   
  
**Not if you were the last ....**   
"Not if you were the last tan, rum-soaked, muscle-bound, pouty-lipped sailor on earth." A pause and a grin. "I require at least two of you. Go fetch me another."   
  
"Yes, Captain Isabela."


	7. 7

**I am never, ever, under any circumstances, wearing that dress**   
Leandra was going through a trunk she'd found in the attic, and grinned as she held up a fitted velvet dress, in a blue so dark it was almost black.   
  
"This would be beautiful on you, Sirene. This was one of my engagement dresses."   
  
Hawke raised an eyebrow, looked down at her armor, then back at the dress. "Really now. You think that's my style?"   
  
"You really should branch out, dear. It wouldn't hurt, you know. You're not allergic to dressing up once in awhile."   
  
"Mother, I am never, ever, under any circumstances, wearing that dress."   
  
Four months later, Hawke had it pressed and wore it to Leandra's funeral.   
  
\--   
  
**The Rug Really Tied the Room Together**   
"I can't believe this! He's one of the most pious men I know, and ... I just don't know what's going on here. Hawke, what do you think?"   
  
"I think that rug really tied the room together," Hawke replied after a moment. "The colors are great."   
  
Isabela erupted into laughter as Sebastian scowled. "Really? Everyone in this house has gone mad, and  _that's_  what you have to say?"   
  
Hawke shrugged. "You asked. Besides, everyone knows it's the pious ones who are the  _really_  kinky ones. Right?" she grinned, waggling her eyebrows at Sebastian.   
  
"Ugh. I'm going downstairs. Once you're done acting like a degenerate, can we  _please_  find out what's going on?" He stomped away down the stairs.   
  
Isabela shook her head. "Touchy, isn't he?"   
  
\--   
  
**Flemeth, regret**   
As she watched her abrasive, obnoxious, headstrong daughter stalk away ahead of the two Wardens, Flemeth remembered.    
  
She remembered the child with flashing dark eyes and a stubborn set to her jaw, who'd refused to cry until she thought she was out of Flemeth's earshot after she'd been caught with the stolen mirror. She remembered the gawky adolescent, who seemed to be all flailing arms and legs unless she had shifted. And she remembered the first time she'd seen the chubby baby with the too-serious eyes smile.   
  
She shook her head in irritation. "What's done is done, and it had to be done," she muttered to herself, "and I need to check on the stew."   
  
\--   
  
**You Win**   
Year 2:   
"Hawke, that was  _awesome_ , that spider would have eaten your head if it hadn't been for Blondie there and his well timed little ice thingy."   
  
"Ha ha, Varric, very funny."   
  
"I'm just saying, I thought you rogues were supposed to be better than that."   
  
"Varric."   
  
"Seriously, did you almost drop the dagger on your own foot while screaming and flailing away from the spider?"   
  
"I'll leave you at the top of Sundermount, I swear."   
  
Year 5:   
"Well, you didn't jump quite so far when we found the spiders this time."   
  
"Varric."   
  
"... I'm just saying, I'm proud of you."   
  
Year 8:   
"Varric, this is totally the best time to rib Hawke about that shriek he let out when that hunter spider came out of nowhere."   
  
"No way. Have you  _seen_  how he looks lately, Rivaini?"   
  
"I dare you. If you don't do it, you have to buy tonight's rounds."   
  
"No way. You win. I like my head where it is."   
  
\--   
  
**Tangled**   
Hawke went to open Aveline's office door, then remembered her smiling-yet-firm order: "Knock first." She rolled her eyes, wondering who Aveline thought she was fooling, acting like she'd be inappropriate at work.   
  
"I'll humor her anyway," Hawke muttered, "or she's liable to lecture me for the next hour." She raised a gloved fist and rapped on the door.   
  
"... hang on!" came Aveline's voice, sounding distressed.    
  
"Aveline, are you okay?" Hawke called as she opened the door. She surveyed the scene in front of her. "What ... what did you guys  _do_ ?" she asked, smirking at Aveline and Donnic, who had somehow managed to get tangled together amidst buckles and straps.   
  
"Hawke, if you do not get out of here this instant, I will raid your house every night for the next year, I swear it."   
  
Laughing so hard she couldn't breathe, Hawke just backed out of the room and closed the door. "I'll wait out here then, shall I?"   
  
\--   
  
**Scars**   
"Mama, what's this one from?"   
  
"That? That's from where a spider bit me."   
  
"This one?"   
  
"That's from a raider who thought he was a better fighter than me."   
  
"What about that one?"   
  
"That's from where your father nicked me when we were training once."   
  
Leandra looked offended. "Daddy! That's not nice."   
  
Donnic tried not to smile. "I know."   
  
"Did you apologize to Mama?"   
  
Now he grinned. "Yes. Yes I did." He looked at Aveline. "Didn't I?" he asked, winking.   
  
She blushed, just a bit. "Yes, you did."   
  
"Mama, I want to be an adventurer like you when I grow up."   
  
Aveline ruffled Leandra's auburn hair. "I'm just a guard, sweetie. Hawke was the adventurer."   
  
"Then I want to be a guard. And have neat scars!"   
  
"If that makes you happy, my girl," Aveline smiled. "Now time for bed."   
  
\--   
  
**Stars in the Sky**   
They were camped out on Sundermount.   
  
"Hawke, what do you think the stars are?" Merrill's voice was quiet.   
  
"Well, somebody once told me that the great kings of the past are up there, watching over us."   
  
"Really?"   
  
Isabela boosted herself up onto one elbow and looked at Hawke. "You mean a bunch of royal dead guys are watching us?"    
  
Hawke grinned. "Bazinga."   
  
Isabela rolled her eyes. "I knew there was no way you were serious about that." She grinned. "Although ... they'd get quite a show if they  _were_ ."   
  
Hawke shook his head. "Isabela, with you,  _everything_  is about sex, isn't it?"   
  
She just grinned at him.   


  


\--

**No one expects the Orlesian Seekers!**   
Varric came to in a chair ... in Hawke's house, he realized as he looked around.

"Well, Seeker," he said with calculated insouciance. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"No one expects the Orlesian Seekers!" someone shouted from behind him.

Varric rolled his eyes. "Don't kid yourself. We all expect you sooner or later. I will give you the element of surprise, though. That definitely came through, since I wasn't expecting you quite yet."

"What about fear?"

"It  _was_  a little scary being knocked out and dragged through town."

Cassandra stepped forward. "Enough!" She pointed at the unseen person behind Varric. "You, shut up! Dwarf! Start talking!" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "This job should not be this headache-inducing."

\--

**5 places you never expect to find a kitten**   
She saw the first perched on the high windowsill in the room she'd given Anders. "Cat, how did you even get  _up_  there? Can you fly?"

She saw the second sleeping in a warm patch of grass in Fenris's garden. She also saw Fenris stretched out beside the kitten, gently stroking its head, oblivious to everything else. Hawke grinned to herself and crept away.

She saw the third creep out of the shadows and rest a tiny paw on Cricket as she walked through Darktown. It made her smile for the first time in a week.

She saw the fourth curled up on Varric's bookshelf. The dwarf just shrugged when Hawke asked him about it.

She saw the fifth sleeping on top of Dog, threw up her hands, and went to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of milk.

\--

**When I Still Needed You**   
"Sirene, I need you! Please, don't abandon me in this."

She ignored what her heart wanted her to say, opting instead for anger. "When I still needed you, you were ignoring me to write manifesto after manifesto. When I still needed you, you were making me run all over Darktown gathering disgusting things for something you still won't tell me about. When I still needed you, you were too busy to care that I needed you, and now you want me to stick around and help you do Maker knows what?"

As Anders opened his mouth to answer, she turned on her heel. "No. I don't want to hear it," she snapped as she stalked away, sure that he at least couldn't break her heart any more than he already had.

Later, standing at the foot of the ruins of the Chantry and the ruins of hope for peace in Kirkwall, she discovered she had been wrong in that regard.


	8. 8

**Full Disclosure**   
"Come on, Warden, you can tell me." The Rivaini was in Amaranthine, on the run from 'this obnoxious do-gooder who wants me to be a better person'.   
  
"Well ... I love Alistair, obviously." She smiled. "Even his terrible jokes."   
  
"Naturally." A pause. "Wait, there are others?"   
  
Cousland fidgeted. "Well. There's Zevran. That accent. Those eyes. You know."   
  
"Do I  _ever_ ."   
  
"And-"   
  
"You're not done?"   
  
Cousland ignored that. "There was this mage, Anders. He left, awhile ago. I don't know where he went. But he did this ... sparklefingers thing that was just ...." Cousland sighed.   
  
Isabela smirked. "He used to do that at the Pearl, too."   
  
"And then there's ... well, there's Nathaniel."   
  
"That broody archer who looks like he'd rather step barefooted on caltrops than smile?"   
  
Cousland laughed. "He looked so angry the first time he came to my quarters. Mad at me, at himself, at the whole situation." She paused. "Anger translates into quite the passionate performance in bed, by the way."   
  
"I take it the king doesn't know about any of the others?"   
  
"Of course not!"   
  
"Well ... full disclosure here, Warden, since you were kind enough to extend such to me? I was rather hoping to seduce you on this trip." Isabela grinned.   
  
Cousland grinned back. "Oh, well ... in that case, we should probably get us a room. Why didn't you say so earlier?"

 

\--  
  
 **I'm too sober for this**  
Isabela ran down the stairs, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back out bearing a bowl of hot water. Merrill was on her heels, snatching towels and running back upstairs. Hawke was next, looking for some of the sweets Aveline always kept around the house.  
  
Donnic stopped pacing to watch all the bustle, looked up his stairs, and then sank onto a couch. "Maker, I am too damn sober for this," he said, burying his face in his hands.  
  
There was a sudden stillness upstairs, followed by a slap and a very angry cry. Sebastian laughed and clapped Donnic on the back. "See? It wasn't so bad! Now get upstairs and see your wife and child." 

\--  
  
 **Just One of Those Days**  
"Now, I must say my goodbyes, dear wife, before I'm tempted to stay."  
  
Cousland grinned and leaned in toward Alistair, who was leaning in toward her, and ... there was a clank of breastplates banging together.  
  
Then a snicker from somewhere in the king's complement.  
  
And outright laughter from Oghren. "Looks like the queen has quite the ... breastplate," he chortled.  
  
Cousland snickered as Alistair blushed mightily. "Just one of those days, huh?"  
  
"Perhaps if each of you leaned forward at the waist?" Anders helpfully suggested.  
  
"Worth a shot," Alistair grinned.  
  
They both bent at the waist and managed to kiss, to mingled cheers and laughter.  
  
"Next time, my king," Cousland laughed, "I'm getting you out of your armor first."

 

\--  
  
 **I Will Pay You to Stop Talking**  
Merrill had been pointing out the flowers, the woodland creatures, the "cute little dragonlings", the spider nests, cloud shapes, the feel of the grass on her feet, and ... just about everything else during their trip to Sundermount.  
  
Fenris finally snapped. "Have you been talking to me this whole time?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Merrill," he said through clenched teeth as Hawke and Isabela stood back and tried to smother giggles, "I will pay you to just stop talking. For five minutes. Just ... don't. Not a word."  
  
"But Fenris, this is your first trip to Sundermount, and I promised Isabela I would be a good guide!"  
  
"I really do not care what you promised. I care about my sanity, which is more and more endangered the more you talk."  
  
"Would you rather Isabela do it? I've seen how you look at her," Merrill said, her voice full of sincerity.  
  
"That's it, get yourself another sword-swinger. I quit," he snapped at Hawke as he stalked away down the path.

 

\--  
  
 **Three Wishes**  
"Hawke!" Isabela greets Hawke at the door, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Hawke pauses, bags from the market still in hand. "Isabela. What did you do?"  
  
"I have brought you three wishes, O Champion!"  
  
Hawke looks skyward for a moment. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I? I should just walk away, take my stuff to Varric's, and wait you out."  
  
"Oh ... I don't know if I'd do that."  
  
With a growing sense of foreboding, Hawke walks into her house. She sees nothing out of the ordinary until she gets to her room.  
  
Fenris, Anders, and Sebastian are all tied to her bed, in their smallclothes.  
  
Hawke, torn between laughing hysterically and not wanting them to be any more angry than they clearly already are, looks at Isabela, who is very pleased with herself and standing in the bedroom doorway.  
  
"Well, you told me last night you couldn't decide. So here are all three!"  
  
"How did you even - you know what? Never mind. I don't want to know."

 

\--  
  
 **Answer**  
"Varric, we need to discuss this." Viscount Hawke dropped a sheaf of papers onto Varric's table at the Hanged Man and took a seat.  
  
"What?" The dwarf tried - and failed - to look innocent.  
  
"Nowhere in my last meeting did I utter the phrase 'kick ass and chew bubble gum, and we're all outta bubble gum'."  
  
"Well-"  
  
"Nor did I make any reference to heading anyone off at the pass."  
  
"But-"  
  
"And referring to me as being twelve feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of my eyes?"  
  
"Sigrun suggested that one; it wasn't me."  
  
"So it should be in the official meeting minutes?"  
  
"It adds color!"  
  
"Varric." Hawke stood.  
  
"... yes?"  
  
"You're fired." She turned and stalked out of the Hanged Man.  
  
Isabela sat down as the door closed behind the viscount. "I wonder if she knows that was your goal."

 

\--  
  
 **What?!**  
"You know, Isabela," Hawke slurred one evening when they were far too into their cups, "I'm pretty glad that Anders can't read my mind."  
  
Isabela grinned. "Oh? And why's that?" She winked. "Think of me more than him?"  
  
Hawke laughed. "Okay, maybe that's part of it. But he also probably wouldn't appreciate how often my mind wanders to how the Arishok must look without all that armor."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Don't even act like you haven't wondered, Isabela."  
  
Isabela stood, wobbled for a moment, then straightened, hands on her hips. "We must find out!"  
  
"Once we're done with the rum, of course." Hawke shook the bottle.  
  
The pirate promptly sat back down. "Of course."

 

\--  
  
 **Are You There, Andraste? It's Me, Sebastian**  
Sebastian was kneeling next to his bed, and for once found himself at a loss as to how to begin.  
  
"I ... are you there, Andraste? It's me. Sebastian. I feel like I've been doing this a lot lately. See ... there's this girl, Hawke. Her hair is black as onyx, her eyes are brighter than the ocean, her mouth is filthier than Isabela's if such a thing is possible, and ... I don't know. Maybe I love her? Or maybe I'm getting the tingly feeling in my pants confused with love. Or maybe I'm just hungry. Anyway, I just ... well ... see, there's this Starkhaven thing, too. And I could really use a sign of some kind to tell me what I should do."   
  
He paused. "Also, if you could, please, put in a word for me with the Maker? I sincerely did not mean to use his name rudely last night. While I was sinning. Erm, again."   
  
He sighed. "I never know how to finish these things. So ... good night. Or ... well, I guess time doesn't really pass there. But I need to go to bed before the Maker smites me for talking to you about such things. Although I probably have it coming in advance for when I have no self-control later, too. Please avert your eyes at that point, if you are indeed watching over me. Amen."  
  
Sebastian collapsed on his bed. "This was a lot easier when I wasn't thinking about that damned woman."

 

\--  
  
 **Oh, Don't Tell Me That**  
"Sebastian, have you ever noticed the sway of Hawke's hips beneath those robes?"  
  
 _Yes._  "No, of course not, Isabela. I took vows, you know."  
  
"So you haven't noticed how she bites her lower lip when she looks at you, I suppose?"  
  
 _ **Every**_  time. "Absolutely not."  
  
"I guess you never wonder what it would be like to cup that firm, round ass as her legs wrap around you and you slide into her, then?"  
  
 _Yes!_  "No!"  
  
"And never wonder what it would be like to press her against a wall in your room, hike that skirt to her waist, and screw her til she can't walk straight and she's hoarse from screaming your name?"  
  
 _ **Maker**_ , yes! "Isabela!"  
  
"Well, I can tell you for a fact that  **she**  has."  
  
 _Oh, don't **tell**  me that!_ "I ... have to get back to the Chantry. Now."  
  
Her laughter echoed until the Chantry doors closed behind him.

 

\--  
  
 **Weapon Maintenance**  
Viscount Hawke was addressing the newest templars.  
  
"It is essential that you keep your sword cleaned, polished, and ever-present. Your sword is an extension of yourself. Your sword is what will keep Kirkwall safe from the renewed incursion of maleficarum, now that they have all been loosed on the world!"  
  
There was some muttering, especially from the older templars gathered in the back. Hawke slammed her gauntleted fist onto the podium.  
  
"Dissension is not tolerated! You are either with us, or against us! You saw what mages did to Kirkwall! I fought them myself for years, eradicating them from the cracks and shadows of our home!" She took a deep breath, and continued more calmly. "You are the next generation of defenders. You are the weapon which will ensure our security. Never forget this. Serve dutifully, honorably, and you will be written in the annals of history."


	9. 9

**Can I Get You a Ladder?**   
Hawke was drawing a crowd outside her house.   
  
"'Hawke, I need to go to the Bone Pit to dig around for random crap. Hawke, my brother's house is haunted, let's go check it out. Hawke, we need to run errands for Elthina. Hawke, I need you to kill slavers. Hawke, I need you to go chase down a stupid dwarf who stole from me. Hawke, I need to go restore the evil mirror. Hawke, I need you to go slaughter giant spiders. Hawke, now don't get mad, but I swiped this relic and now people are pissed. Hawke, the templars can't handle their own mess, can you fix it? Hawke, Hawke, Hawke, Hawke, Hawke.'"    
  
She stomped her feet. "Can I get you all a ladder, so you can get off my back? Can we call in a pinch-hitter Champion? Can I have  _one weekend_  where I get to sleep in until 9? Would that be okay with this town?" She threw up her hands and stormed back into her house, kicking the door shut behind her.   
  
Varric looked at Isabela. "Rivaini, what did you ask her to do?"   
  
"I swear, all I did was ask her if she wanted to go shopping."

 

\--  
  
 **Stairs**  
She stood on the stairs, arms folded, glaring at the utterly infuriating man standing in her living room, sunlight glinting off that utterly ridiculous Andraste belt buckle.  
  
"You know, you follow me around like my mabari, you act like you want me, and then when I say something or even hint at the fact that I want you, you scamper off like a frightened nug!" She threw up her hands. "You're too cowardly to kiss me!"  
  
He narrowed his eyes and stormed up the stairs, then grabbed her shoulders. "I'll .... " He trailed off as she stepped closer to him. "No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how." He turned and walked back down the stairs.   
  
"Do they give you classes in 'being a tease' in the Chantry? You can't just leave like that!"  
  
"Watch me."  
  
The shoe she threw missed him by a mile.

 

\--  
  
 **Exploding Pants!**  
"Maker's breath, Hawke, what happened in here?"  
  
Hawke blinks, trying to clear her bleary eyes. "... Sebastian?"  
  
"We're supposed to go to the Wounded Coast this morning, remember? You're late. I came to find you. And ... I find this. What happened?"  
  
Hawke looks around the room and ponders. "Exploding pants! They just ... blew up, and clothes went everywhere. It was a disaster!"  
  
There's a snort of laughter from under the blanket.  
  
Sebastian blushes a deep red. "I ... didn't realize there was someone else here with you."  
  
Isabela sits up, pulling the blanket away from a now-scowling Fenris.  
  
"Err ... two other people. Yes. Well." He clears his throat. "I'm, uh, just going to wait outside. Out there." He turns and almost trips over his feet leaving the room.  
  
"He practically ran down the stairs," Fenris observes.  
  
"I'm so asking him to join us next time," Isabela laughs.

 

\--  
  
 **Come Here Often?**  
Before they could pass into full knighthood, every templar had to go through a full test of their abilities and their dedication and their endurance. It had been the hardest thing Cullen had ever done. He'd wanted to cry with happiness when he passed his.  
  
In retrospect, he thought as he crossed the courtyard, that wasn't _nearly_  as hard as working up the courage to talk to Macha, who left him tongue-tied and feeling like he was fifteen, all awkward limbs and gawky manners and flailing idiocy. But he'd run into that dwarf that Viscount Hawke trusted in Lowtown, and Varric had given him some suggestions for starting a conversation.  
  
 _If I can just talk to her without blushing,_  he thought,  _I'll be good. Okay, now be suave. Be polite. Remember what Varric said. It can't be that hard._  
  
Macha turned as he approached. He offered a courtly - if clinking - bow. "So ... come here often?"  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keran blush a rather bright red. Macha smiled. "Well ... I had only been coming once a week, but I could probably rearrange my schedule."  
  
When she smiled, he completely forgot what it was he was supposed to say next. "That ... that would be great. I ... would you like to see my office?"  
  
As she took his arm and they walked off, Hawke looked up from the weapon vendor. "Seriously, Varric,  _that's_  what you told him to say? 'Come here often?' She comes to the Gallows all the damn time. I thought you were going to  _help_  him."  
  
"Hey, Viscount, she's going off with him, now isn't she? I'd say that was successful."

 

\--  
  
 **Viscount Hawke & Anders Reunite**  
  
"Hawke-"  
  
The viscount held up a hand. "Pardon me, o Prince of Starkhaven, but I would prefer you address me by my proper title, as you are clearly here on business."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Your Excellency, you are harboring a known criminal!" He gestured angrily at Anders, seated off to one side of the room. "Starkhaven cannot allow this to stand!"  
  
"Last I checked, this man had committed no sin against your sovereign state."  
  
"He committed a sin against the Chantry!"  
  
Hawke held up a hand. "Be honest. He committed a sin against  _you_ , in your eyes. And you would lead your people into war for a vendetta! You would kill your people, for a grudge! Maybe I was wrong in my estimation of you as a good leader."  
  
He flushed a deep brick red. "Starkhaven will not stand idly by if you-"  
  
"You presume too much, Vael," Hawke said coldly. "I granted this man clemency. If you bring an army against my state, I will see your countrymen torn apart. I will see you sent home in rags, to explain to mothers, daughters, wives why their men are gone - for your foolishness! Get out. Consider our treaties broken until you regain your senses." She beckoned to the templars standing near the throne. "Please escort  _his highness_  to the city gates."  
  
Sebastian yanked his arm out of the grip of the nearest templar, turned, and stalked out of the throne room.  
  
Hawke looked at Anders. "And now that I have lost an ally, what are you going to do?"  
  
He crossed the room and knelt before her. "Your excellency, I petition for the right to rebuild the Circle, in a manner both pleasing to Andraste and fair to mages, who did not ask to be born as they are."  
  
"I see. And if mages turn to blood magic, if they continue on the same course as before?"  
  
"You know I don't hold with blood magic, Viscount. I just don't want the oppression of all mages for the sins of a few."  
  
There was a long pause. "Very well. Is there anything else?"  
  
He rose, walked over to her, and gently kissed her cheek. "It is good to see you, Ebon."

 

\--  
  
 **Stupid Sexy Anders**  
Seriously now, you're Warden-Commander, and you've already delayed stepping off for Blackmarsh by an hour because you're up here talking to yourself. Good grief, the guy is just the healer. Get a grip.  
  
 _But it's Anders. Stupid sexy Anders, with that spicy shimmy thing, and the way he walks, and the way his ass looks in that robe, and the way he handles his staff, and that sarcasm, and the way he bites his lip when he's really concentrating, and just ... guh._  
  
Well, yeah, but what about Nathaniel? That whole quiet, broody thing he has going, the tortured past ... come on, that's awesome.  
  
 _Look, self, you're not helping. At this rate, I'm going to fall down the stairs because I'm so distracted. And while you do have a point, at least Anders remembers how to laugh. I don't think I've seen Nathaniel crack a smile once since he got here._  
  
Ooh, that's even better! It'd be like ... like ... fire and ice, at the same time!  
  
 _Great. Now I'm going to get eaten by something because I'll be too busy thinking about this to pay any-_  
  
"Warden-Commander, are you all right? We need to get going."  
  
"Yes, Sigrun, I'll be right down. I'm just ... adjusting my armor. Yes, that's it."

 

\--  
  
 **I Hate It When You Make Sense**  
"No, I'm not helping those, those ...  _mages_!" Fenris shouted, practically spitting the last word.  
  
Hawke's jaw took on a very stubborn set. "Listen to me! They just want freedom, like you did! They've been oppressed, and trampled on, and blamed for everything, and had to live under the boot heel of that nutcase Meredith! They didn't choose to be born the way they are, and they didn't choose to be treated like crap, and we for damn sure are not going to assist in their summary execution for no crime but being born!" He folded his arms and glared at the elf.  
  
He pursed his lips, looked off into the distance, finally sighed. "Hawke?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I hate it when you make sense."  
  
"Yes, well, it had to happen sometime. Today's your lucky day, pal. Now let's go."


	10. 10

**This Doesn't Leave This Family**   
Hawke had finally gotten around to going through his mother's room. Most everything was sorted, when he noticed a small box on her bookshelf.    
  
"What's this?" He opened it, looked through a few of the pictures ... and snapped the box closed, blushing furiously.   
  
A few minutes later, Carver burst through the door, a tired Bodahn behind him. "What is it? Bodahn came running through the Gallows like your house was on fire!"   
  
Hawke wordlessly handed him the box. Carver opened it, rifled through some of the pictures. "Are they ... is that ... oh, Maker, Garrett! Why did you show me that?" He dropped the box. "There WAS an embarrassing vacation in Antiva!"   
  
Hawke looked at him. "This? Does not leave this family. Well, us. Ever. Just ... here." He crouched and started picking up scattered pictures, stuffing them back in the box, then shoved the box at Carver. "We have to hide this somewhere. Preferably in a bolthole off the Wounded Coast." He paused. "Or in a fire."

 

\--  
  
 **The Last Dance**  
She stared out across Kirkwall, remembering the night before.  
  
She'd been in their room, folding clothes and putting them away, when he'd come up behind her and hugged her.  
  
 _"Oh! Anders, you startled me!"  
  
"I'm finished."  
  
"With?"  
  
"Everything."_  
  
He'd turned on the music and held his hands out to her.  
  
 _"Shall we dance?"  
  
"I didn't know you did, besides your spicy shimmy."_  
  
He'd laughed, pulled her close, and they'd swayed to the music until the sun started trickling in through the high windows.  
  
Hawke snapped out of her reverie and looked at Anders.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because there was no other way."  
  
She cried as the knife slid between his ribs.

 

\--  
  
 **Free (Legacy)**  
He stepped into the loose dirt outside the fortress and inhaled deeply. The sun was warm on his skin, the air was clean, and the only thoughts he heard were his own.  
  
Larius smiled.  
  
"Free."


	11. 11

**Roses**

**** Marian had been wandering all over Kirkwall, ever since the small boy with the white rose had shown up at her house early in the afternoon, telling her she needed to “find the roses”.    
  
She found the young woman with the yellow rose sitting on a dock, the older gentleman with the orange rose near the mage stall in the Lowtown market, and the noblewoman with the peach rose on a bench near Marian’s estate.   
  
As she crossed into the chantry courtyard, Sebastian straightened from where he was lounging against the wall and strode over to her, pulling a red rose from behind his back. When he reached Marian, he dropped to a knee, oblivious to the chantry sisters who’d been coming out and were now lining the upper balconies.   
  
“Marian, I want to marry you. Not out of a sense of duty or obligation, but because I want to wake up next to you each morning, fall asleep beside you each night, and raise our child in a home full of warmth and love.”   
  
“’Not that it wouldn’t be, anyway, which I’m smart enough to point out so you don’t sock me one,’” Varric rather loudly pointed out from the stairs, where he was sitting with Isabela.   
  
“What he said,” Sebastian grinned. “And-“   
  
“And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen; sunlight pales at your radiance, moonlight only wishes it could shine like you, and I just LOVE how you handle a staff!” Isabela chimed in.   
  
“Was this bit planned?” Marian whispered to Sebastian.   
  
“Absolutely not,” he laughed as he extended the rose to her. “Will you marry me?”   
  
Marian took it. “I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Are you going to make me pancakes?”   
  
“Every time you ask for them.”   
  
“Run to get me snacks even if it’s two in the morning?”   
  
“Without fail.”   
  
“Sing to me?”   
  
“Naturally.”   
  
"Even in the snow?" She smiled. "Because that was ridiculously romantic."   
  
He nodded. "My feet will thaw out eventually, I'm sure."   
  
“Well, in that case … I suppose we can get married.”   
  
Sebastian stood and kissed her. “Good,” he grinned. “That saves me from having to cancel our engagement party.”   
  
Marian looked shocked. “What engagement party?”   
  
“The one that’s been setting up at your estate since you left,” he laughed as he took her arm. “Shall we, my lady?”


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously unpublished ficlets, all written before DA:I but I wanted to get them added into the collection

**Guess who's got a date with a prostitute! ******  
Isabela burst into Hawke's library unannounced. "Guess who's got a date with a prostitute!"

Hawke sighed, and looked up from her book. "Who now, Isabela?"

Isabela was practically dancing with glee. "Sebastian!" She leaned in to whisper, despite the fact they were the only two in Hawke's library. "She's on her way to the Chantry right now."

"Isabela!" Hawke snapped. "Seriously, what is wrong with you? You sent a ... you ... but he ...." She trailed off and sat back, head in her hands. "Oh Maker, what have you done?"

Isabela grinned. "It's okay, she's an apostitute! After he fucks her, he can save her! A good deed to cancel out the bad one!"

Hawke had a sudden feeling that tomorrow's trek with Varric, Isabela, and Sebastian along the Wounded Coast was going to be very, very awkward.

\--

 **Say I'm Your Best Friend!**  
Hawke and Isabela had been drinking in Isabela's rooms for ... awhile now, as Hawke recalled. They were lounging on the bed, dice and cards finally abandoned.

"Hawke, what time is it?"

Hawke pondered. "It's ... um ... well, I'm a little fuzzy on the whole timey-wimey thing at this point in the evening," she answered, proud that most of her words weren't slurred.

"No matter." Isabela scooted across the bed and threw her arm around Hawke. "Hawke, am I your best friend?"

"Well, I mean, we -"

"Say I'm your best friend!"

Hawke, through her drink-induced haze, contemplated how many pointy little knives and daggers were probably concealed about Isabela's person and opted to pass on the "but we only just met" discussion. "Of course you're my best friend!"

"Here's an idea!" Isabela said, positively gleeful. "We should be best friends, who have sex!"

"... right now?"

"No, silly. After we finish our drinks. So we don't spill them."

\--

 **Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye**  
Sebastian bent and kissed her hand. Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?"

He looked confused. "I was ... saying goodbye? I'm going back to the Chantry for the evening."

She rolled her eyes. "That's no way to say goodbye." She grabbed his arm, pulled the surprised prince to her, and planted a huge one on him. "Now that, my friend, that's a Kirkwall goodbye. And don't even act like you didn't like it," she grinned, looking downward.

He blushed, but said nothing.

She twiddled her fingers at him and winked. "Now run along and repent, Choir Boy."

\--

 **Waiting**  
As the man slipped in the door of the bar, the wind blew back his hood just a bit, revealing a stray wisp of blondish hair. He looked around the bar, and made his way to a back table, smiling at the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman kicked back in one of the four chairs.

"I didn't think you'd be here," he said. "You know, after what happened, and the Chantry and everything."

She pushed a chair back from the table and beckoned for him to sit down. "You silly ass, I've been waiting for weeks." She paused, then smiled. "I was hoping you'd come."

\--

 **Exotic Wonder of the East**  
"I'm not coming out."

"Vael, you lost the bet, fair and square, and you know it. Now, I thought you had some morals, and that means keeping your word," Varric calls up the stairs of the Hanged Man.

"Varric, no."

"If you don't come down on your own, we'll send Isabela up to get you."

There's a pause. "Is ... Hawke out there?"

Hawke claps her hands over her mouth to stifle laughter.

"Nope!" Varric answers cheerfully. "She said she didn't feel well when Anders went to see if she was coming out tonight."

"Can we change the bet?"

"No! Now get out here, or you forfeit!"

There's a very slow creak as he takes a tentative step forward.

"Swagger! You really have to work it, Choir Boy!" Isabela calls.

"Maker, I am going to _regret_ this," Sebastian mutters. He tugs at the ill-fitting dress, pulls out a fan, flutters it in front of his face, and ... sashays down the stairs.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I give you ... Sebastian, the Exotic Wonder of the East!"

There are cheers and whoops and rather lewd offers shouted as Sebastian comes down the stairs, his face more red than Qunari markings. He comes to a dead halt as he sees Hawke waving sovereigns at him.

"You said she wasn't here!"

"Oops," Varric grins. "Look, she's offering the most for you! You should be honored that the Champion of Kirkwall is taking such an interest in you!"

The laughter echoes up the stairs as Sebastian takes them two at a time.

\--

 **Old Man, My Ass**  
Cousland looked at Alistair, then back down the Deep Roads entrance they'd chosen.

"You ready for this, old man?"

Alistair looked back at the woman he'd loved since her first sarcastic quip back at Ostagar.

"Old man, my ass. Let's go beat the tar out of some darkspawn. It'll be like the old days."

She grinned. "I even brought some cheese, just for the occasion."

\--

 **This is My Sword**  
Cullen hadn't known what he was getting into when he decided to join the templars. He'd seen the exquisitely crafted armor, the stirring symbols, the sentries of right and integrity, and he'd run to sign up.

What he _hadn't_ seen was the first three months, where he wasn't allowed to refer to himself in first person, and was only allowed two minutes to shower, and was constantly yelled at and berated and told to exercise til he dropped, and was stuffed into a communal sleeping and living area with twenty other smelly miserable recruits, the majority of whom would wash out before their training was complete.

He could admit to himself that some parts were fun - the duels, the hand-to-hand combat training, bashing that obnoxious twerp Leisken over the head with a training sword until Leiskin was damn near crosseyed. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought of pick-up lines to use on the easily impressed girls back home. _"So hey, I'm a templar, you know."_

When all he could think of was throwing down his sword and storming out (in these completely unrealistic fantasies, they never tackled him at the door and pummeled him; they always let him leave in his righteous huff), he reminded himself that he wanted to be a part of something bigger, that he wanted to serve Andraste ... and that he wanted to strut around in that fantastic armor.

The morning of graduation from this first phase of training, he stood in the morning chill, sunlight glinting off his breastplate, refusing to let his voice waver as he recited the sword creed:

_This is my sword. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My sword is my life. I must master it as I must master my life ...._


	13. 13

**I Really Am Ruggedly Handsome, Aren't I?**  
Sigrun was determined.

She was going to talk to Varric this time, without tripping, spitting on him, falling down, or spilling something on herself. Or blushing. Or stuttering.

She checked her armor in the mirror one more time. Perfect, shiny, just how she liked it.

"Right," she muttered. "It's just dinner. In the chow hall. Get it together, Sigrun."

She ran into him in the doorway and opened her mouth to say something. To her horror, the only thing that came out was a squeak.

He grinned. "I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I?"

She blushed so much she was surprised she didn't pass out, then tripped walking through the doorway, and managed to knock an entire bowl of stew in her lap during dinner.

"I knew I should have just stayed in the Deep Roads," she muttered.

\--

 **We All Sympathize With Your Torn-Apart Heart**  
Hawke heard the angry voice before she even reached her front door. "Great. Can't they just get _along_?"

She opened the door to find Isabela with a sardonic smirk on her face, and Sebastian practically hopping mad. "You just don't understand, Isabela!"

Isabela laughed. "Look, we all sympathize with your torn-apart heart and your really artistic worldview, but seriously, just shut up. We got it." She pranced around Sebastian, flailing her arms. "Oh Maker, whatever shall I do?" she wailed in falsetto. "There's this girl, but but but the Chantry! I could be a prince, but but but the Chantry! Oh noes, however will I make a decision?" Her voice dropped back to its normal register. "Maybe we'll all get lucky and you'll get your sign." She smiled sweetly. "In the form of a well-aimed lightning bolt to your big stupid head."

Anders raised his hand, grinning. "I think I can-"

"Stuff it, Anders!" Sebastian glared at Hawke. "Call Varric to see if he'll fill in for ranged," he snapped as he stalked away. "I'm not talking to that, that ..."

"Aveline prefers 'whore'," Merrill chimed in helpfully.

" _Woman_ again," Sebastian finished as he stormed away.

\--

 **That Was a Bad Throw/Remind me Why We're Doing This Again/Never Again**  
"Someone toss me a healing potion!" Hawke called over her shoulder, parrying another sword swipe.

There was a crashing sound, a blooming pain in the back of her head, and she felt liquid running down the back of her tunic.

"That was a bad throw! Whoever that was, you should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Well, you know, Hawke," Fenris snapped, "I'm sorry that Danarius didn't have stickball on my list of authorized training!"

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Isabela called as she stabbed at a walking corpse.

"Doing what?"

"Adventuring without Anders!"

"Oh. Well, he said he didn't want to come if Fenris was going to be there."

"Never again!" Varric said from behind her. "I don't care if we have to lock them in a room until they get along, but I am never coming with you again if you don't come with Blondie. Nothing personal; it's just I like my spleen unperforated."

\--

 **Destroy**  
She had persuaded Anders & Sigrun that going back to the Keep was the right choice.

The men had agreed with her.

But as they walked away from the small contingent tasked with burning Amaranthine, as she tried to ignore the sounds behind her, she wondered if "destroying the village to save it" was as sage advice as she'd been led to believe.

\--

 **Shifty**  
"Y'all are some shifty people, you know that? Anders has me collecting who-knows-what for Maker-knows-what. Varric tried to get me to steal the Hanged Man from the current owner - and buddy, putting me on your tab does not make up for that. Merrill wants my help with a demon-possessed mirror - all the while smiling at me like she's an innocent little kitten. Fenris yells at me if I make any attempt to find out what the hell is going on. And Isabela ... well, I don't think I even need to elaborate there." Hawke put her hands on her hips and glared at her assembled entourage. "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

There was a pause, and then Varric raised his hand. "Are we still playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man later?"

Hawke sighed. "... Yes. Is that it?"

"Well ... that's the _important_ question."

\--

 **Once Upon a Time in Kirkwall**  
The old mage came to the conclave a few months ago. His blond hair has faded to white; his eyes are the eyes of a man who has seen too much suffering in his lifetime. He leans on a walking stick, laboring to draw each breath.

He tells them his name is Anders; the younger apprentices believe he has taken on the name of The Revolutionary as homage. The leader of the conclave, with black hair streaked with white, and still-piercing blue eyes, knows better.

One afternoon, as the apprentices practice their arts in a field under the watchful eye of the conclave leader, one of the youngest, a six year old, approaches him. "Anders ... tell me a story. You have stories, right? Old people always do."

Anders chuckles. "Well, I can maybe think of one or two." He smiles as the other apprentices gather around. "Once upon a time in Kirkwall, there was a mage who became the Champion ...."


	14. 14

**Cullen's Day at the Beach**  
All he'd wanted on his day off was to come out to the beach, sit in something that wasn't armor, not end up blushing and tongue-tied around Keran's sister, and just ... relax. He'd found a perfect spot, just down a little path he saw near the entrance to the Wounded Coast. Trees, beach, flowers. Perfect.

Clearly, the Maker had thought this was entirely too much to ask.

First came Hawke and her band of total and utter misfits, tromping all over his area to pick stupid herbs, without even so much as a "how do you do". Then he'd heard bandits passing by, and he couldn't exactly just sit there and do nothing, could he? He supposed the picture of a templar in shorts wielding his sword was probably funny, and he would have been tempted to at least chuckle if after THAT, he hadn't had to go kill some shades, and seriously, how many blood mages _were_ there in Kirkwall? "See, this is why I'm strident," he had mumbled to himself. "Mages. You can't trust them, and if you kill them all you get people crying about genocide." He'd stomped back to his blanket, determined to have at least one hour of peace and quiet. He'd gotten a whole fifteen minutes before a platoon of templars came running by, shouting a ribald cadence about what female mages do in their spare time. He'd thrown up his hands, loosed an impressive stream of cuss words, and stomped back into Kirkwall.

"Knight-Commander, I'd like to request to not have any more days off."

\--

 **Nonsense**  
"If I may ask a question, oh leader?"

Dairren sighed. "Yes?"

"We've been down this passageway three times now. Where, exactly, are we going?"

"To the road out of here."

"Are you sure?"

Dairren turned around. "I, for one, have never been in the blasted Deep Roads, I think the blasted Deep Roads are possibly the worst place I've ever been - and I grew up in the Denerim alienage, thank you very much - and I would like to get out of here as much as the rest of you. Obviously, you must know your way around here better than the rest of us, so, care to lead?"

"No, thank you. I was simply asking a question." She smiled sweetly.

"Ah, my dear witch, this is why I am so intrigued with you," Zevran chimed in. "Such fire! Such spirit! Such-"

"Stop talking, or I'll make you stop," she snapped. "You do realize I can't stand you, right?"

"Nonsense! You just haven't accepted your true feelings yet."

Dairren shook his head as Zevran sprinted away from Morrigan's arcane bolt. "Honestly, I can't take you two anywhere."

\--

 **Growing Old**  
They sat on a blanket atop the hill behind their small house. Anders dozed in the shade of the large tree, a tabby curled up on his chest. Marian's quill scratched across the surface of her journal, a gift from Anders when they were still in Kirkwall. He'd jokingly inscribed it with the title "Marian's Adventure Book", and she'd almost-religiously filled it with notes and drawings chronicling all their quests.

 _Today is a good day, although I find we're growing old_ , she wrote. _In days gone by, we would be tramping around the woods, or doing something in the house._ She smiled. _Now, I find silver hairs on Anders' head, and on mine. We take the cat and laze around outside. Not very adventurous anymore, I'm afraid._ She paused. _And we never did get to go find that waterfall we'd heard about._

She looked over, and gently tucked an errant blond strand behind Anders' ear.

_To die, though ... that will be an awfully big adventure, right?_

\--

 **Because We Can**  
"Honestly, you four. I expect better of you. The last thing I need is another touchy, complaining, whining, pain-in-the-ass noble running around. So why do you persist in riling Sebastian to the point that he's stuttering and damn near throwing an actual tantrum?" Aveline puts her hands on her hips and glares.

Isabela, Varric, Anders, and Hawke exchange looks, then shrug. "Because we can?" they say in unison.

Aveline throws up her hands. "Well, I'm not coming along anymore until you leave him alone. Seriously, you're going to make a grown man cry." She pauses. "And that is _not_ a goal to work toward!"

Isabela sighs. "Damn. And here I thought you'd finally had a fun idea."

\--

 **It Was Never About You**  
Hawke stepped in close to him. "Just ... just say the right things, and I can put this dagger away, and I can forgive you, and Sebastian can just be mad, and we can make this better. Please. I love you. And I thought you loved me."

Anders, from the remnants of control he held onto, heard the tears in her voice, and opened his mouth to say what she wanted to hear. Justice wasn't having it, and what actually came out was entirely different than what Anders had tried to say.

"It was never about you. It has always been about freedom for the mages. You were merely a tool, that's all." His voice grew louder. "And when you kill me, I will be a martyr to the cause."

She simply nodded and slid the knife between his ribs.

 **The Whole World Thinks You're Dead**  
They waited in the rickety cabin for two weeks.

He finally showed up one rainy night, hair plastered to his face, bandage wrapped around his torso.

"You're _back_?" Isabela exclaimed in shock. She looked at Hawke. "But ... but you killed him!"

"I stabbed him."

"But-"

Anders held up a hand. "The woman I loved stabbed me. But that's how I knew she truly loved me."

Isabela raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's crazy even for you. Explain."

"Because if she hadn't loved me, I'd be dead."

Isabela considered. "Huh. Interesting way of looking at it."

Hawke grinned. "And now the whole world thinks you're dead. Isn't that great?! Because now they won't be chasing you. Us. Whatever. And we can go be pirates with Izzy!"

Isabela held up a hand. "On one condition - we get to go to Antiva and live in debauchery for awhile."

"Absolutely!" Hawke & Anders chorused.

\--

 **One Promise Isabela Never Broke**  
One _extremely_ drunken night, Isabela pried the story of Bianca out of Varric. She doesn't remember how she managed it. Or how she got back to her room afterward. Or what happened to the following 17 hours.

But she remembers the story. It makes her smile when she thinks about it.

She also vaguely remembers kissing her friend's cheek afterward, and thanking him for telling her a story.

And she remembers her promise.

"I swear to you, on everything I hold dear - from our stories to the Champion's tender, tender feelings for me (even though she won't admit them), to my ship - that I will never, ever tell anyone this story."

Some promises can't be broken.


	15. 15

**After the Gallows Battle**  
He had been walking the streets for hours. He'd checked her house, and wandered around after not finding her there. If he'd lost another woman without managing to tell her how he felt ....

"Cullen?"

He turned. "Macha?"

She ran over, and after a moment's hesitation kissed his cheek. "I'm ... I'm glad you're safe." She smiled. "I mean, I wouldn't want to have to carry my groceries home by myself every week."

He knew he was blushing furiously, and tried very hard to look serious. "Er ... I ... yes. Naturally. I live to serve."

She had turned to go when he caught her arm. "Wait. I ... "

Macha looked back. "Yes?"

Cullen swallowed hard, determined to say something. "I was just wondering if you'd be coming by the Gallows soon."

"Well, yes, of course. To see Keran."

He tried to hide his disappointment.

"And you."

He grinned. "Oh, good!" He coughed. "I should ... get back. Yes. But I'll see you soon." He rather awkwardly kissed her hand and then disappeared into the crowd.

\--

 **A Proper Pet**  
"Shale, I've seen you watching Leliana and that nug for an hour now."

"I have not. I just ... I don't understand why something so squishy would get something even _more_ squishy as a ... what was the word? A pet."

"Maybe you just need a proper pet, Shale."

"I doubt that."

A few hours later, Cousland returns to Shale with her hands held behind her back.

"What is it doing?"

She brought her hands around to the front, revealing a medium-sized rock, flat on the bottom and rounded across the top, with eyes and a happy little smile drawn on it. "I found you a pet." She smiled.

Shale takes it. "I ... it ... for me?" She ponders. "I suppose I shouldn't throw ... Herbert at pigeons, should I?" She sounds almost happy.

"Herbert?"

Shale gives Cousland a withering look. "Every pet needs a name, does it not?"

Cousland chuckles. "That they do."

\--

 **Don't Play Strip Wicked Grace With Isabela**  
"Viscount Hawke, is it true you once indulged in cross-dressing?"

"Absolutely not."

"But there have been reports that not only did you indulge in cross-dressing, you indulged in _dwarven_ cross-dressing. There are eyewitness reports of you leaving the Hanged Man wearing baggy pants that came up to your knees and a rather scandalous open-neck tunic. Some who think you should be replaced point to this as evidence of your lack of fitness and appropriate soberness for the job. What do you have to say to that?"

Hawke pondered. "Don't play strip Wicked Grace with pirates when your only option for clothes is a dwarf."

\--

 **Yeah, You're a Real Good Judge of Normal**  
They emerged, battered, from the run-in with Strand and his cronies. A nondescript woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs and strolled up to Hawke.

"Good job in there." She paused. "In fact, take care of any more groups like that and I'll be waiting at the Hanged Man with some toys as reward." She disappeared back into the darkness as abruptly as she'd emerged.

"I never meet anyone normal," Hawke sighed.

Varric snorted. "Yeah, you're a real good judge of normal, Hawke." He beckoned to their little group.

"Hey!"

"'Our intrepid hero exclaimed, feelings hurt by the truth proclaimed by her trusty dwarf companion.'"

"That's it, I'm not buying your drinks tonight."

\--

 **The Middle of Winter**  
Winter always brought on a much-needed pause in routine, a time to relax.

Merrill liked to lay out in Fenris's slumbering garden, catching snowflakes on her tongue. He gave up trying to make her leave, and even brought her warm cocoa once. She promised not to tell anyone about that, though.

Sebastian had entirely too much spiced cider one night and stood under Hawke's balcony in snow up to his knees, shivering and serenading her. "As the winter winds litter Kirkwall with lonely hearts .... "

Donnic lost so much money to Fenris playing Wicked Grace that Aveline finally put her foot down and only let him go once a week.

Varric and Isabela holed up in Varric's rooms for nearly a month; they finally emerged proclaiming their latest collaboration a "masterpiece", to many cheers - and an inquiry about speed griffons - from the assembled patrons of the Hanged Man.

Anders' manifestos kept Hawke's house warm almost all winter. She was grateful that he burned them himself due to being "inadequate"; she would have felt bad about burning them herself. (But not badly enough to be cold, if she was honest.)

Nevertheless, when the first green shoots started showing, Hawke was glad to get back to normal.

\--

**Excerpts from Anders' Manifesto**   
_When, in the course of events it becomes necessary for mages to dissolve the political bands which have oppressed them and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the freedoms given to all people in Thedas entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation, despite what the Chantry claims Andraste meant._

Anders shakes his head, crumples it into a ball, and throws it in the corner. "No one would ever read it."

_The Chantry shall make no law entailing an abolition of the freedom of mages._

He crumples that one up, too.

_No mage shall be taken, imprisoned, or in any other way destroyed, except by the lawful judgement of his peers, or by the law of the land once that law has been addressed to remedy the grievous iniquities suffered by mages._

This one ends up in the pile as well. "Too dry."

_To the Void with the templars, the Chantry for standing by and doing nothing, and the people of Thedas who continue to not give a hang about mages! May they get scratched by cats in sensitive places!_

He nods with satisfaction. "Yeah, I like that. Time to make copies."


	16. 16

**Chivalry**  
"Miss, let me help you up. You took a nasty tumble there."

The freckled young woman with the fiery red braid glared at the smiling templar. "Thank YOU, but I can get up all on my own. We don't all need some ridiculous man in a tin suit following us around." She got to her feet, kicked the rock that had gotten in her way while she had been admiring the templar's sword form, and picked up her only somewhat crushed basket.

Wesley smothered a smile and tried to look very serious. "I see. My apologies."

"And don't apologize! SOME of us just wanted to be treated the way you'd treat any man."

Now he couldn't help smiling. "If any of my friends were as beautiful as you, with hair like a sunset, I don't think I could concentrate enough to walk in a straight line."

"I ... well ...." She trailed off, blushing furiously, then glared at him and threw her braid back over her shoulder. "I must get to the market. I trust you don't feel the need to follow me there?"

"Of course not. But I do hope I'll see you again. Perhaps you'll favor me with a duel sometime?"

For the first time, she smiled. "Perhaps."

\--

 **Drunken Sailors**  
"Isabela, I don't understand why you sing that drunken sailor song. I just ... really, what can you do with one?"

As everyone at their table in the Hanged Man burst into laughter, Isabela grinned. "Oh, Kitten. What _can't_ I do with a drunken sailor? I can make them dance, make them cry, draw on their faces when they pass out, tell them to go fetch their less-drunk friends, give them a belly shirt and hot pants as a uniform, and basically cause as much mischief as I want without Hawke complaining that I'm being mean, or Fenris glowering at me like he is right now."

"I think he's just glaring because he likes you, Isabela."

"That's it, I need stronger liquor," Fenris grumbled, getting up and stalking to the bar.

"Wait for me!" Isabela called, jumping up.

"High five, Merrill," Anders chuckled.

"What for?" she asked, confused.

"Oh, Daisy," Varric laughed. "What would we do without you?"

\--

 **Unacceptable**  
"Isabela, we need to talk." Hawke looks serious as death. "We are your friends, and we love - or in some cases, tolerate - you, but we must intervene in this particular case."

Isabela eyes the assorted group. "Oh? Well, my curiosity is piqued. Do tell."

"We need to discuss your repeated-"

"And successful!" Anders chimes in rather snippily.

"-and successful-" Hawke adds, shooting a look at the mage, "attempts to, well ... cockblock everyone."

Isabela widens her eyes. "Why, my dear Hawke, I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about."

"Fenris has here a list of all the times you've managed to show up at just the right time and prevent someone from managing to get any farther with someone they're interested in."

Fenris tosses the list to Isabela, who catches and peruses it. "Oh, come on, you guys. You're taking this way too seriously."

"No, Izzy, it's-"

"Fun? Exciting? Adding to the thrill of the chase?"

"Unacceptable!" they all chorus. "Knock it off!"

Later, as they leave the Hanged Man, Fenris looks at Hawke. "You know she won't, right?"

\--

 **Expecting**  
Fenris opened the window and looked out. "Who keeps throwing rocks at my windows?"

Isabela stepped out from the shadows.

"Oh. Are you talking to me again? Because you've been avoiding me more than you avoid Anders."

She produced a piece of parchment, cleared her throat, assumed a dramatic stance, and began to read.

_"I hate the way you talk to me,_   
_And the way you never brush your hair._   
_I hate the way you always get lost,_   
_I hate it when you stare._   
_I hate your big dumb pointy swords_   
_And the way you read my mind._   
_I hate you so much it makes me sick,_   
_It even makes me rhyme."_

She stuck her tongue out at him and continued.

_"I hate the way you're always right,_   
_I hate it when you lie._   
_I hate it when you make me laugh,_   
_Even worse when you make me cry_   
_I hate it when you're not around,_   
_And your messy, unreadable scrawl._   
_But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you,_   
_Not even close …_   
_Not even a little bit …_   
_Not even at all."_

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Isabela. Are those ... actual feelings?"

"What were you expecting? Flowers?"


End file.
